


Social Anxiety

by AQA473



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Spoilers, episode one information, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQA473/pseuds/AQA473
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max needs to get a jump drive, but she gets something much more precious. And it terrifies her. [Vicxine] Based During Episode One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's here! I'm really super proud of this piece and can't wait to start working on the next chapter. Please let me know what you all think. Any and all criticism is welcome and encouraged. Please read my other works, too. Let me know if you still want to see a meta story with all the Life is Strange pairings I've written because I'm not feeling so sure about it anymore
> 
> Regardless, enjoy!

It’s almost unfair how normal everyone can be while I’m here, freaking the hell out. Like, what the frick? Logan and Zach, beefhead bros, toss their pigskin back and forth like they’ve got nothing more important to do. Alyssa’s just reading her book, in the sun, as if it’s the only thing in her world. And here I am. Standing in the perfectly normal dormitory courtyard. With time manipulation powers. This day couldn’t get any fucking weirder if it tried.

I always thought having my own dorm would be exciting. Funny how quickly we get bored of things. Maybe I’ll get used to my powers eventually, too. Well, if it’s like living in a dorm, it’ll be a day before I’m complaining about it.

I can’t hear Zach down the field, but Logan’s making enough noise for both of them. I swear, he just likes to hear his own voice, not unlike so many others in the Vortex Club. At least some of them sound better than him.

I crane my neck totally inconspicuously to catch a glimpse at Alyssa’s novella she’s reading. Love something die- oh! That’s that really silly and very emo sounding book called “Love Today or Die Tomorrow.” It’s a best-seller, so it must have some good qualities. But so is 50 Shades of shitty-BDSM-representation so maybe not. I like to think Alyssa has better tastes than that, though. She doesn’t even notice as I walk by. I’ve always been invisible, I guess.

I was so lucky to make the friends I did in Seattle. They just happened to be hiding in the same place I was and we all decided it would be best to hide together than take turns. I like to think I’ve become more social, in large part because of those guys. I approached Kate on my own when I saw how she got harassed day in and day out. No one deserves that, no matter what they believe. Unless it like, you know, hurts people. But preaching abstinence doesn’t hurt anyone. I’ve been talking to a lot more people today, as well. Maybe this time stuff makes me bold.

It’s really dark in the corner, where the boys’ dorm casts a shadow over the entrance to the girls’. I saw men put up these scaffolds the other day. They weren’t letting anyone in until it was up and I was out late buying food. Seems stable enough. They said the painting would be done by tonight. Guess Samuel’s gotta get on that.

I walk up, eyes drifting over the scaffolding, then look forward to- oh shit. There’s Victoria and her “mean girls.” What, do they just hang outside places to piss people off on purpose? They must know no one likes them and the shit they pull every day. I can’t believe Victoria gets away with acting how she does just because her family pays the school. Fucking rich kids.

She’s too busy flaunting herself to her posse to notice me. Figures. But I can’t just avoid them. This building’s old as hell and Vicbitchia blocks the only way in. If there’s ever a fire, we’re all screwed.

Their pretty little purses are all pushed to the right of the entrance. Honestly, who’s jerk enough to block the door to people’s living spaces? I’m so done with her.

Looking like I want in certainly grabs her attention. I can’t open my mouth before she starts running hers.

"Oh look, it’s Max Caulfield, the selfie-ho of Blackwell," she says, her tone reeking of superiority, like she knows everything worth knowing. Such a lame insult, too. Well, your mother’s cat.

She stands up and gets in my face, sweeping to my left. “What a lame gimmick. Even Mark,” talking like she knows the man. “Mr. Jefferson - falls for your waif hipster bullshit.” My skin tingles knowing she’s standing behind me. I don’t trust her back there. Like she’ll send me flying into her posse and beat my pulp out. Her scent surrounds me and it’s… not unpleasant. Definitely not cheap stuff, that’s for sure. Her attitude may be cheap but her wardrobe certainly isn’t.

I tilt my head away as she comes back around, only seeing her in my peripheral. She sticks her face at me, my cheek my only protection against her sneer. She’s obviously being snide, but I can’t help but notice how good she looks. Why do beautiful people have to be such bitches? Not that you aren’t pretty, Kate. Love you. I’m so thankful my mind is my own. I swear I’d be shot if we shouted our thoughts. I wonder if Victoria would be better or worse.

She crosses her arms and poises her nose in that classic snotty fashion. “‘The Daguerrian Process, Sir!’ You could barely even say that.” You were gonna say the same thing. Only reason I knew to say it. So thanks, miss know-it-all. “I guess you got your meds filled.” She swings her head back, soaking in the laughter of her posse at her totally not-funny joke. I can’t even get a word in with her, those girls backing her up. I’m afraid they’ll attack me if I try to speak.

Her butt hits the concrete steps, retaking her position in my way. And she clearly knows it. “Since you know all the answers, I guess you’ll have to find another way into the dorm. We ain’t moving.” Aren’t. Bitch. Then she proceeds to prove me right.

Her hand reaches back as she leans forward, looking so giddy with excitement I’d think Mr. Jefferson was proposing to her. “Wait, hold that pose,” she says, making the universal ‘stop’ sign with her hand. She’s quick to reveal her smartphone, held horizontally and held up in traditional camera-phone pose. Of course she would. Of fucking course. Her digital shutter makes the audible camera noise all those silly phones make to let idiots know it’s “like a camera” and I’m caught with my left arm grabbing my right like I’m some lost dunce. My face probably isn’t the most flattering, either. As if I’ve ever had a flattering picture taken of me.

I can hear Logan moaning over a throw and birds yelling away overhead as Victoria swipes her finger over the phone’s touch screen. “So original.” Is that a hipster joke? “Don’t worry, Max, I’ll put a vintage filter on it right before I post it all over social medias.” That one was absolutely a hipster joke, and who says that? Just say facebook. Who’s the hipster now? So lame. But I guess I’m not doing anything to stop her, am I? I’m just standing here all dumb letting her get away with treating me like an idiot.

"Now, why don’t you go fuck your selfie?" She says it with such triumph I can’t help but be impressed. I mean, come on, ‘Go fuck your selfie?’ That’s pretty good. But I’m afraid I’m gonna move your bony ass, Victoria. And no, I’m not sorry.

I make a motion to try actually getting past her but, no, they won’t budge.

"Do you understand English? Get lost." Her words echo behind me. She sounds like she’s already fed up with my presence. Like she’s got nothing left to say. I’ll have the last laugh, yet.

Samuel’s on his way down here from raking leaves. Poor guy. Everyone gives him so much crap and he’s the only reason we aren’t all sitting in empty Coke cans and cigarette butts. He sure isn’t Speedy Gonzales, though. As he makes his way over here, the sprinklers in front of the girls’ dorm turn on, quickly drenching the bushes in falling droplets. I guess it has gotten pretty late. But wait, the mist almost hits Victoria’s gang. They pay it no mind, but it’s giving me one hell of a devilish idea. Ha, hell and devil. I didn’t even try for that one.

It’s a simple task to dash behind Samuel’s slow butt and crank the sprinkler valve. Just for a second, though. Don’t want to hurt anyone else. Oh, I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?

The screams of Victoria’s posse travel across the courtyard. I’ll bet it looks super funny, Victoria all wet and covered in water with her fancy ass shirt pressed against her- whoa, what the fuck am I going on about? Don’t lose your cool, Max. Just get that self-righteous prick out of the way and get Warren’s flash drive. Easy.

Going over to the front, I see the cats still haven’t moved. Now they’re just standing, off the wet steps, and Victoria looks pissed. Imagine if she knew it was me that did this. Still in my way, though. But, damn, does she still look good. Angry and soaked and she still pulls off that expensive-ass outfit. I’ve never spent so much time around her. It must be getting to my head.

Walking by her just gets me more snide remarks. “Keep walking, hippie.” She even says ‘None shall pass.’ She just loves to torment me, huh?

Samuel climbs a ladder going through the scaffolding, carrying a paint bucket. He’s even slower moving up that. ‘I gave my life, not for honor, but for you!’ Ladder boss, so overpowered. Terrible memories.

He places the bucket on a hook hanging just off the side of where Victoria is. Oh, my God. That’s perfect. But it’s already up there. Guess I could throw a rock at it, but that wouldn’t be hella obvious. Unless it was never up there in the first place!

I stand back, so no one really notices that I’m not where I should be, take a deep breath, and extend my arm. Everything slows to a crawl then stops. No birds, no chatting, no wind, no painting strokes, no air. Then it all goes back. My vision fogs as all the sounds of the last five minutes reverse, like when you rewind a VHS and everyone talks backwards. My head stings, burning as I near my limit. Samuel’s back at the end of the pavement just as darkness, like melted emulsion paper, creeps into my sight. I grip my head. It throbs, but fades fast enough, like it never hurt in the first place. Birds chirp again. I can hear Victoria squabble with her gang. They’re back on the steps.

I take a couple breaths then begin. Samuel’s watching the pavement and Victoria and co. are too involved with themselves to notice as I pull the handle on the paint bucket. It pops, but doesn’t come off. It shouldn’t break immediately. Hopefully. I don’t know if I could live with myself if Samuel got hurt ‘cause of me.

I walk past Samuel, looking totally normal, not suspicious at all, don’t mind me, get back to the valve, and send Victoria’s posse back off the steps in a chorus of shouts. I watch as Snake Eater takes an age in his ascent to justice. His bucket’s holding, thank God. Just a little further. There. He places the bucket on the hook and it only takes a second for the action to jostle the loose handle. It snaps free.

It’s almost slow motion. Like one of those magic movie moments, one of those times in your life that’s just so incredible that your mind realizes it and goes, “Oh, this important? Here yeh go, you can watch nice and slow like.” The bucket makes its mighty descent, completely unaware that it’s sacrificing itself for a higher cause. It crashes in a fantastic display of white, like the clouds above, as it sprays out in a cloud of its own, free in the air, until it plasters Victoria’s back. Shiz, this is better than I thought it was going to be!

"No way! No fucking way!" She screams as she backs away from the mess. Too late, ass. She’s totally covered in the stuff. She tries shaking it off but only manages to shave a few drops. The rest are there to stay. Stuck to her stupidly expensive cashmere. Her cronies try calming her down, only irritating her more in the process. Poor Samuel, he gets yelled at as he tries to apologize. Sorry, buddy, but you’re taking the fall for me on this one. I should make it up to him, later. Anonymously, of course.

Victoria’s handmaiden with the violet highlights promises to bring back towels. Like that’ll help. That sweater is gone, trust me. I’ve ruined my fair share of clothes by smearing paint on them. And even if you could save it, bringing it to a washing machine would be a better idea. So close but no cigar.

"So move your ass before I dry," she says as the other two run into the dorm. At least she tries to be optimistic in her own messed up way. Now’s my chance.

I walk up to her and stand less than a foot from her designer shoes, coated with paint now. She doesn’t make any motion to acknowledge I’m here. The steps still shimmer with the water I shed on them a couple minutes ago, her included. Their purses were victimized, too. There’s this void of space surrounding her. Graffiti stands out to me now on the walls behind Victoria. One eloquently reads ‘POO’ and the other, right next to her, says ‘WELCOME TO SLUTS ‘R’ US.’ I’m inclined to agree but maybe not. Maybe that’s a little unfair.

She’s just sitting there, her arms wrapped around her midsection, cradling herself. Her head’s down. She looks so uncomfortable. All this unfortunate crap happened to her and all she can do is yell at and blame others, but here I am feeling sorry for her? Just because a tiger’s backed into a corner doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous.

Let’s try this again. Time to move, Victoria. Even if you do look really flippin’ pitiful right now like I just want to hold her and tell she’s- MAX. FLASH DRIVE. GO.

"Uh," I start. "Hey… Victoria." Just because I can rewind time and save someone’s life doesn’t mean I’m good at interacting with people. I can already feel sweat building on my brow. I’m much better with a camera than my words.

"What do you want, Max?" Now she faces me, pulling up. She tries to look intimidating, but I can tell her façade is failing. I can almost see tears in her eyes. She white-knuckles her knees as her eyes stare me down. She’s trying to look aggressive, like she knows to be upset with me, but she also looks… alone.

I was gonna whip out my camera, give her a taste of her own damn medicine, humiliate her in a way she could only dream of getting on me, but now I don’t know. The look in her eyes, like a sick puppy, or a cat that fell in the tub. Yeah, like the cat. She’s still so pretty, especially with her bangs sticking to her forehead. A splotch of paint adorns her right cheek, where the paint flew particularly high. Some stains her hair, too. I make a decision.

"I am sorry," I say, apologizing for more than just the social action of telling someone sorry for something that happened to them rather than something you did. Mine’s a little more genuine than others’ would be, I guess. And I think I actually feel sorry for it. Like I should rewind and- but no. She wouldn’t move, then. This is the only way with what I have available.

"That’s an awesome cashmere coat…" A compliment to let her know I mean well. I surprisingly do. She looks down at the article of clothing in question. She gives me a look that says more than her words. Like she’s… grateful

"It was. But there will be another." She doesn’t seem too keen to continue. I’m so bad at this. Ugh, talking. I hitch my thumbs on my jeans.

"Well, you always seem to know how to pick the right outfits."

"I do have some talent." Brushing me off. Typical. "Mr. Jefferson told me-" She starts but I catch her deflection.

"I’ve seen your pictures. You have a great eye. Richard Avedon-esque." The words spill out of my mouth like cream from a spout. They drift through the air and flow like silk into her ears. I mean every word. Even though her photography’s completely self-absorbed, it’s well-done. Avedon knew how to shoot a fucking portrait. That’s how he got in Vogue, did all those famous shots of celebrities. She has that same knack for the perfect angle, the perfect pose. She has potential. I just hope she sees it past her selfish mask.

"He’s one of my heroes… Thanks, Max." Her eyes grow wide as she speaks. Her nose isn’t sticking up like she’s condescending me anymore. Guess my praise finally sunk in. Then she looks at me, straight in the eye. There’s not a single negative emotion in those shiny spheres. She’s being as real as me, right now. My heart clenches. I struggle getting a gasp of air into my lungs. I can’t say anything to that gaze.

Her knee quakes as she slaps it, looking over her shoulder at the door, the directions her buddies ran down. “I hope those sluts get me a towel before they hang a sign on me.” Her eyes flash between the paint-stained ground and my raggedy ass face. The sounds around us fall away. No birds, no jocks, no wind. I look down at my hand to make sure I’m not stopping time. Victoria’s still moving. Weird. The look in her eye captivates me. Her eyes widen then squint. I don’t know what she’s looking at so intently. Heat simmers on my cheeks. I look away. I wish the sun was throwing light onto her. It’d dry her faster, for sure. Among… other things. She swings back, pulling out her phone.

Her nimble fingers tap away at it as she speaks. “You deserve a better shot.” My eyebrows rise. Oh, is she deleting that awful picture? I’m… wow. Holy shit. I should be nice more often. “Sorry about blocking you and…” She swipes her hand over it again, like she’s flicking away a tick. “And the ‘Go fuck your selfie.’”

“That was mean.” I’m grinning. Why am I smiling like a douche-bag? My cheeks hurt from this big grin piercing my dimples. “But, pretty funny.” I’m making small talk, or something. I’m being really super nice to this really super mean girl. And I’m fucking smiling. She looks… content, at least. Just makes me smile wider. I tone it down when she flashes me a look. Then her eyes lighten. At this moment, I can’t imagine her saying anything mean to me ever again. She feels so real, so authentic. With that paint on her face and her ruined cashmere coat sticking to her skin. God, help me.

She sits back, her bitch persona grabbing a hold of her again. Though, happier, I think. “Just one of those days, you know?” She’s smiling now, too.

“I know exactly what you mean, Victoria.” Her smile’s so dazzling. I’ve never seen her smile like that before. She was being super smug when she taunted me earlier, definitely smiling then, but not like this. I’ve never seen this before. I want to see it more. My cheeks burn. “I’ll see you later.” I motion to move past her and she makes no attempt to stop me. She scoots over, onto a slightly drier part of the steps.

“Au Revoir.” Her smile sticks until she sits for a couple seconds. Our conversation’s over. Her mind moves on. Logan calls out in the background. Our avian cousins shriek from the trees surrounding the school. I can even hear the pages of Alyssa’s book turning. Victoria’s smile fades as she stares out across the yard. A pit drops in my stomach. My skin burns; it hurts like a rash. I scratch at my arm, but it doesn’t go away. Tiny wings clog my throat and I know words won’t come out if I try. What’s happening to me? I didn’t even feel this weird when I woke up from that vision, reversed time, saved that girl’s life.

She at least looks a little better than before. I shouldn’t be pleased about that. I should rub her face in it, make her feel like shit for all the bullshit she’s done. I should. I look down at my hand. I have that capability. I can do it. I can go back, take back everything I said, and make her regret being who she is. The mere thought churns my belly like bad stew. My fist falls to my side. No, I’m owning this one. I… don’t regret a word I said. The only thing I regret is having to coat her in water and paint. Her friends really are taking a long time. I’m not done here. Warren can wait a little while longer.

I walk up the steps and Victoria looks down, her shoes tapping together. Tiny rivulets of water slide off the rubber onto the cement. I watch her, but she doesn’t look back up. She’s waiting for me to leave. I try to say something, open my mouth, and only cotton balls form, drying my mouth in seconds. A sigh escapes. I hurry inside before I make a fool of myself.

Back in the dorms. I find my way to the stairs, ignoring all the rooms down here. I don’t even know the people down here. My feet clomp as I trod the steps. Pumping air into my lungs feels nice. I should run more. The door to my wing swings open and I’m presented with the sight of this sorry fucking hallway. No lights are on at this hour, the only light coming in from the window at the far end and the window down the route to the right that leads to the showers that I never use. Or, try not to. I don’t like showing my body to others. I don’t like showing it to myself, let alone these freaks. Sorry, Kate.

My room’s at the end of the hall, right across from Victoria’s, actually.  A couple of seconds after I enter, Victoria’s “friends” stumble out from her room, the highlights girl bringing up the rear toting a towel. Suddenly, I feel like a total bitch. Why can’t I do something I want to do? Something for me? Not to get Warren’s drive, or save a girl, or answer someone’s interests as if I give a damn, but for me. I want… I hella want that towel.

I swallow the cotton balls in a heavy gulp, licking my cheeks and teeth. My feet plant in the carpet, matted into the ground from years of foot traffic. The two approach and look like they’re about to run me over. Now or never, Max.

“He-.” Awful. I fill my mouth with saliva. “Hey.” The blonde stops short. They fidget, feet tapping rapidly.

“What, hippie? Can’t you see we’re busy?” My fingers flex. I don’t need to deal with this. I can rewind, I can-

They zip back down the hallway and I snatch my hand from the air before they disappear back into Victoria’s room. Do they even have permission to go in there? I hold my throbbing temples as they run back down. I can’t just run away from everything because I can. I can’t abuse this. If I want to do something, I need to gab the bull by the horns. Or hos, in this case. This time, I won’t run.

This time, I’m ready. “Hey!” They’re further now and have time to slow.

“What do you want, loser?” Oh, harsh. She cocks her hip but the highlights girl looks a little less concerned with me.

“Victoria’s not outside, if that’s where you’re going.” I can’t stop these words. They just pour out like a raging waterfall. They’re not even aware of what I’m doing.

“What? Where did she go?” Highlights asks.

“I don’t know. She said something about you guys taking too long. I think she, um, yeah, she said something about the laundromat. Probably to take her clothes to. I mean, we don’t have washers here.” They both look at each other. I don’t have time to vomit as they both shove past me, slower this time.

“Figures. She can be such a brat sometimes. Come on, Courtney.” The other girl drops the towel, like their task is meaningless, and vanish from the second story. The closing door echoes down the forgotten hall. I pick up the discarded towel, dusting it off with the back of my hand.

I can’t believe I did that. I cannot believe I just did that. What the hell did I do that for? I can rewind time again. My muscles pulse. I have that power. No, no, I’m biting this. I clutch the towel to my chest and turn around.

I stop by the bathroom to soak half of the towel in warm water. Those girls talk down the hall as I walk out of the restroom. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they sound annoyed. Serves them right. I think. I mean, they did laugh at me. At least Victoria apologized.

I open the entrance and there she is. Victoria sits in the same position I left her in. I cough, making her swivel. I can only describe her look as astonishment, maybe even disbelief. I fail to suppress a grin.

“Sorry. I, um, I think your friends left. I didn’t see them anywhere so I thought I’d, you know…” She scrunches her face, drawing her brow close. She snatches the towel from my hands, grappling the dry side and padding herself. The paint doesn’t move but I’m sure it makes it more bearable to wear.

“I can’t believe them. Should’ve seen it coming, though, honestly.”

“Hey, uh, you might dry faster if you do this in the sun.” She glances up at me. “Shade really holds in the cold, right?” I gesture to an empty bench to our right. I think Kate was sitting over there earlier. I’ll have to catch up to her later. Victoria doesn’t say anything, just gets up and marches over there, towel slung over an arm. I grab her bag and follow.

We’re halfway there when I hear the door open. Those girls walk out. They don’t even look around. They just pick up their own purses and run out the courtyard. They’re gone before Victoria turns back around, sitting down. She flashes me another strange look. Not angry. Not feeling anything, I think. Just… looking. I hold out her purse. She snags it, looks down at its sodden form, then sighs and tosses it under the bench. She scoots a couple inches to the side. I sit in the open space she made to her right.

We watch as Logan and Zachary do that weird bro-hug thing. It looks painful, honestly. Why would you hit someone’s back like that? Logan makes a flashy peace sign at him as he walks away and heads into the boys’ dorm. Alyssa’s still glued to her chick-lit and Samuel’s gone. I consider asking Victoria where he went but I don’t think she cares.

She resumes padding herself down. “You’re right.”

“Huh?” I say, turning to face her. She doesn’t look up from her shirt. The towel presses into her stockings. Her skin leaks through it, showing off her flawless pours. Drying the stockings tints them, hiding them from view. I cough. There’s still paint on her cheeks, wrinkled from having been on skin for so long.

“The sun helps.” She stops. Her eyes catch mine. It’s hard to breath. Her face is so close. I could almost… I don’t know. I’m sure I’m blushing again. “Why are you being nice to me? I hate you, remember? Shouldn’t you have, like, taken advantage of that?” She points to the steps to our dorm.

“I don’t hate you, Victoria. And… you were in trouble, kinda. I wanted to help. I meant everything I said.” My heart pounds in my chest. Her gaze falls back down.

“Oh. Thanks.” She doesn’t say anything else. Just sits there, drying. I think the warm part of the towel isn’t warm anymore.

“Why is part of the towel already wet?” Now she asks?

“Here,” I say, holding out my hand. She stares at me but hands it over a moment later. “Look forward.” She does as I say, but I see the concern in her eyes, brow drawn tight. A cute pout crosses her lips. “Hold still, please.”

I take the lukewarm damp section with one hand and hold her neck with my left. She flinches at first then settles. I’m touching her. I’m really… my skin is on Victoria’s. The only time I’d ever imagined this happening would be if she slapped me. This certainly feels like a slap, but not to the cheek. I press the towel to her face and rub in methodical strokes, firm but gentle. The paint begins to come off. Luckily, it’s the same hue as the towel. Shouldn’t show up once it’s washed.

Neither one of us says a word. I want to talk but I don’t know what to say. “How was your day” sounds like the silliest fucking thing to ask her. We’ve already fought openly four times today and countless times every day since the first time we met a few months ago. She’s a textbook high school bully and I’m an indie-loving geek. Well, we do have one thing in common.

I strike at a spot on her neck. She shivers but I don’t stop. I focus on keeping my breathing stable. Her eyes stare ahead.

“Have you, that is, uh.”

“Just talk, hipster.” It’s an insult, obviously, but her tone wafts through the breeze, lighter than air. A smirk springs up on my lips.

“Have you seen Irving Penn’s work?”

She scoffs, jittering my hands. I start smoothing out her skin, looking for more paint spots. Ooh, there’s another one. Her ear lobe won’t clean itself.

“Duh, weirdo. You think I haven’t?”

“I just, well, your pictures look very Avedon but, like, lonelier, I guess, like Penn’s.” She blinks. Should I rewind that? That sounded uber mean.

“Yes. I suppose my photos are… that way. I appreciate Penn’s Corner a lot. He gets me. Feeling distant from your subject. He let them do whatever they wanted in that tight corner of his. Sometimes they acted scared, or actually were scared, others spread their wings even in such a confined space.” Her skin’s clean, but I’m not ready to move my hands just yet. I move to a section I haven’t run the towel over. She won’t notice the difference.

“But how can you feel distant from your subject? You’re the subject in over half of your photos.” I feel her swallow, her throat bobbing. She just stares forward. Not responding. Oh. I look down, removing my hands and towel. “Um, you’re all cleaned up. Sorry that took so long.” She sighs.

“No, no sorrys. Thanks, Max. You didn’t have to do any of this. I thought for sure you were going to pull out that filthy Polaroid of yours and smack me on Instagram. But here you are.” She folds her hand in her lap, knees close. A blue bird soars above us, tweeting as it goes. It snatches a fly mid-air before sailing into a nearby tree to enjoy its catch. I breathe deeply.

“Yeah. Heh. No problem. I just thought that someone being mean to you was the last thing you needed right there.” Guilt grips me. Like I have the right to say that. I tricked her friends away, and for what? But would they have gotten this much out of her? They hardly seem like friends to me. I hope I did her a favor.

She looks at me. No emotion, no concern or annoyance, just looking. Her eyes track the features on my face. My heart thumps as her pupils trace the line of my lips, slowly sliding over every curve. I feel like I’m gonna throw up. Oh God, no. I’m throwing up. I taste it first, then I feel it. I launch myself from the bench, double over behind it on the grass, and hurl. My lunch spills from my mouth, splattering all over the poor, innocent ground. It isn’t too bad, I think. I had a small lunch. But it’s still nasty as hell.

“Ew, Max, seriously?” She yells, jumping from the bench. Oh no. I fucked up. I wipe my mouth as fast as I can with my sleeve then scrape that off on the grass.

“Wait, sorry, I just got really nervous. I do that.” I hold my hands out to her. I really should reverse time. Yes. Oh shit, yes. This is the best moment to use that unexplainable power. I can vomit whenever I want to and no one will ever know. I angle one of my outstretched hands, preparing for a major headache, then I hear a laugh. A loud one.

Victoria’s laughing. Like, holding her stomach guffawing. She falls into a fit of giggles before calming down with a snort. I almost laugh, too. I smile, though. Her laugh is so pleasant.

“People really do that? Wow, what a fucking weirdo, Max! You’re such a hipster, your body does it, too!” She laughs again. I drop my hands, laughing with her.

Soon, we’re two girls standing next to a pile of puke laughing for no apparent reason. And this feels so real, so natural. I want to cry, this feels so good. I mean, I’m starving now that my food’s escaped me, but my whole body tingles. I don’t want this moment to end.

We eventually stop, sides and cheeks hurting. We walk back to the dorms, I with the towel and her with her purse.

“Now we match. I have paint and you, the hipster, have vomit. Pukey,” she chides, glancing over her shoulder at me as we enter the building and ascend the stairs. I rub the back of my neck. The hairs on end stab my palm.

“Yeah. Funny.”

We walk the rest of the way in silence, but a nice silence. I wouldn’t dream of breaking this with clumsy words.

Our hall isn’t the way I left it.

“You can’t get out now, Dana!” A girl shouts as she shuts a door behind her and slams her fist against it. “So tell me the truth, or rot in there!” After spewing her hatred, she pulls out a phone and calls someone. Wait, I know her. That’s Juliet Watson. She’s a journalist for the school paper. I never read the thing. It’s too, you know, high school. She seemed nice, though. Victoria heaves a heavy sigh beside me.

The face she gives me is the sternest look I have ever seen her sport. I’m afraid she’s about to slug me into next week. “Don’t mention what I’m about to do. Ever!” With that, she walks over to Juliet, who’s still blocking the door to Dana’s room, and stops in front of her. I glue myself to the wall as I creep closer, just close enough to be in earshot but not get involved.

“Victoria? Hey. This looks so off, okay. But it’s like you said. I’m just punishing her for-”

“Stop.” Victoria crosses her arms. I’ve never seen her sigh so much.

“Um… why?” Juliet’s stops messing with her phone.

“I lied to you.” I can’t see Juliet’s face from this angle, but I’m sure her eyes are the size of saucers. Mine certainly are. “There was no real sext. Dana hates Zach. You wrote something… false in the school paper. So I made all this up to get you mad at the person closest to you.”

“Wait, hold up, this is revenge at me? And why bring Zach into this? You bitch!”

“No, idiot. Zach only likes you for your tits.” She says that so calmly my mouth drops. Juliet’s does, too. She looks like she’s about to slap her. “I got Zach to do it with no complaints on his end. He doesn’t really care about you. I was much more concerned about that person.” Victoria points at the door to Dana’s room.

“Victoria, you swine! What’d I ever do to you? Don’t draw me into your antics just because Julie’s being a numbskull!” Dana’s shouts get through the flimsy dorm door.

“Don’t expect this courtesy in the future. I’d much rather watch you two stew, but today was…” She looks at me. Right at my eyes. My heart flutters. Don’t throw up again you fat piece of filth. “Different,” she says, facing Juliet again. “Don’t mention this to anyone, ‘kay? Thanks. Bye.” She flaps her fingers at this in old prep girl style, walking away with a sway in her hips. Even with that paint on her, she can rock that strut.

She’s a little ways down the hall before Juliet opens the door.

“Jesus, Juliet. I can’t believe you! You fell for such an amateur prank.”

“I know, I’m super sorry. I’m lucky Victoria felt like taking it back or you’d still be in there. Ow!” Dana smacks Juliet over the back of the head.

“I’m your best friend. You know me better than that. You can be a real idiot sometimes. Oh, hey, Max.”

I walk in front of them, holding the towel to my chest. It’s dampening the chest of my shirt, but my heart’s beating too fast for me to move it.

“Hey Dana. Hi, Juliet. I’m sorry about all this.”

“Oh, wait, that reminds me. Hold on a sec.” Dana runs back into her room.

“Victoria was looking at you earlier. Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Not the prank, no. I just talked to Victoria. A bit. I guess. After that paint fell on her.”

Juliet’s eyes widen. “Wow. Like some frickin’ ninja. I thought you two hated each other.” Dana reappears at her side.

“We do. Did. I mean, I think so. She’s a bitch. Mostly. I don’t, okay? It’s been a really, really weird day. I can hardly think right now.” My legs fidget, my feet tapping side to side.

“Here,” Dana says, holding out a green jump drive. Warren’s drive! “I borrowed it without asking, sorry. I was going to give it back until this idiot locked me in my own room. Who does that, by the way?” Juliet looks like she’s about to say something, but it isn’t my place to be in it. I grab the drive from Dana’s grasp.

“I’m sorry, okay? Thank you so much, Max. Dana? I owe you dinner.”

“And do my laundry.” Dana crosses her arms. Juliet smiles back.

“Anything you need.”

Feeling my work, I guess, is done, I walk away. Juliet waves, I wave back, then saunter on down to Victoria’s room.

The door’s ajar. I guess she wants me to come in. I open without knocking or declaring my arrival or whatever’s expected of me. I nearly vomit again. Victoria’s wearing nothing but her underwear, her back turned to me. Her lightly tanned, flawless skin shines in the light coming from her window. She’s a goddess. A fucking half-naked goddess. My jaw’s reaching my collar bone, I’m getting a fever, someone call an ambulance. She has such a perfect body.

She tosses her soiled stockings onto her bed then turns to me. She makes no motion to cover herself. My eyes bolt instantly to her chest. That’s at least a C. Minimum. Look at the belly. I had no idea she worked out. Is that a four pack? A cough brings my eyes back up.

“Shut the door, hippie. I don’t let people in my room often. Especially not you.” So she would be mad if she knew those girls came in here for the towel. I’d tell her if it didn’t mean admitting I lied to her. Oh gosh, I lied to her. I swallow. I spin around, back to her, and close the door softly. My cheeks burn and I’d rather not talk to her with a tomato face.

I step aside and pop a squat on her sofa. She has a fucking sofa. A really nice one, too. Her bed’s beside it, covered in crimson velvet pillows. I try to look at the rest of the room. There’s a red lamp that’s next to some weird blue wall with, um, suns on it, and there’s this really nice chair beside her desk that has a, uh, is that a printer? Yes, a printer. And there’s some of Jefferson’s prints, ho, and oh! Is that a set of her photos? I’ve never seen so many of them. They’re a bunch of personal shots. Or, selfie’s, I guess. I actually hate the term, but just because I take my picture all the time and it just happens to be 2013, everyone assumes I’m some mainstream swag fag that uses the term ‘selfie’ and wants Instagram followers or other useless bullshit.

Victoria’s pictures are vibrant, in-your-face, snotty, really, but also… sad. Not in a gothic sort of way, but a cold way. Like she doesn’t care enough. Like she’s wearing a mask. In all of them.

The woman in question holds out two shirts in front of her, likely comparing them. I think they’d both look lovely on her. The light shafts beaming from her windows turn her skin gold. I squeeze the towel.

“Where can I put this?”

“Put what?” She doesn’t even glance at me.

“The towel.”

“My bed. I’ll take care of it later.” Shrugging, I toss the damp, oversized rag onto her bed, landing it right on top of her ruined clothes. Every time I see them, I feel bad. But then I remember that I got to this place right now because of what I did. So, not-so-bad.

She’s so fit. I kinda wanna run with her. I wonder if she listens to the same stuff I do. Probably not. I doubt she cares for Syd Matters or Amanda Palmer. I don’t belong here. I’m gazing at this woman, Aphrodite, essentially, and I have places to be and a status quo to follow. Which means the hippie girl doesn’t hang with the prep. Only, this isn’t a movie and I only have to bring my friend a jump drive. My life is my own and I want to be here.  Just a couple minutes won’t hurt anyone. Besides, I can rewind time if anything serious happens.

I look to my left and spy a lovely little piece of photographic technology. It’s a classic medium format camera with an awesome lens. I pick it up, pop off the lens cover, and stare at her through the view finder. It’s in manual, thank God, so I twist the focus and zoom on her profile. She’s such a bitch but so gorgeous. She’s decided on a shirt and puts the other away. Holding up a skirt and the chosen shirt, she nods. She glances over at me and grimaces. I can’t help but giggle.

“Stop playing with my stuff, Max.” She sounds as confused as I feel. I replace the lens cap and replace the camera where I found it.

“Why am I here?” Might as well aim for the head.

She ignores my question, starting to put her skirt on. It’s a pretty number with swirls that compliments her hair really well. The shirt flows, too. She’s still barefoot after the shirt’s on. It’s thinner, no undershirt this time, with fanned out lacey cuffs. She buttons the length of it, the shirt slowly swallowing her unblemished skin. I want to run my hand down the length of her belly oh my God what am I saying.

“Why,” she interrupts my thoughts, finishing the last button. Turning fully to me, she continues. “Did you do all that you did today? I never asked for your sympathy. What are you playing at?” Wait, she thinks I’m using her? To do what? Not get into the VC, I hope. I don’t want anything from her. Or, didn’t. I mean- wait, I’m just gonna stop myself before I think something I’ll regret. Too bad I can’t rewind my own mind.

“Nothing. I was- am being completely, totally, one hundred percent genuine. I swear.” Her left eye brow raises. She crosses her arms over her chest as she shifts her weight to one leg. I can’t stand it when she looks at me like this. I press my palm to my forehead. Definitely hot. Shit.

“That’s hard to believe. No one does something for me without expecting something. My family’s rich, they practically own half of Blackwell. I run the Vortex Club and I have pull with nearly every teacher on campus. Which one did you grace me with your generosity for?”

“You.” The word drops from my throat like a bomb. It detonates, dropping Victoria’s jaw to the floor. Mine quickly follows. Rewind, Max. Right now. But I can’t. My hands won’t move. I can hide the word, the stupid filthy statement from her, but not from me. I just said that out loud. I, Max Caulfield, just said that. What if I meant it in a different way? Like… I wanted her, um… camera. Yeah. I want that damn camera. Fudge, who am I kidding?

“What did you just- no, I didn’t hear that. Get out.”

“What, but I-”

“Get out!” She screams, thrusting her finger at the door. “I can’t believe I let her see me,” she mutters under her breath. She grips her head, her other hands still pointed at the door. I want to look at her more, see more of her room, I’m not done here, but her shouts send me out, door slamming shut behind me.

I can go back in there. Rewind and stop myself from saying that, watch her a little longer, say something… not as bad? Shit. I know what I want. I can’t keep running from mistakes. I need to own this one. And, who knows? Maybe it isn’t a mistake. Maybe it’ll actually lead me somewhere. Baby steps, Max. My hands stay by my sides.


	2. Panic Attacks

Hella. Weird. Day. Like, for cereal. And I’m so done with these scary-ass visions. I know they’re real, I know something horribly bad is coming to Arcadia, but I just want to forget it. Act like it isn’t happening. Good thing I’m required to attend school so people don’t think I’m weirder than I already am. My classmates will say, “Why isn’t that Polaroid-fag at schooz today?” And they’ll be like, “I dunno, bruh. She spewouted something about a ternado headin’ to ussessessess. She’s fuckin’ cray as cray can cray, burh.” That’ll be me. I’ll be that girl that everyone thinks belongs in a mad house. Maybe I do, but I’ll fight that reality for as long as I can.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I always do, don’t I? After that awful, wonderful, confusing, enlightening… thing with Icky Vicky, I continued the weirdest fucking day of my life. I even wrote about it in my journal while it was happening. I can’t deal with something in my life unless I puke it onto a page. Oh, gross, puke. Too soon, too soon. But I just need to get it all out. So it’s all in there. Not like I could ever forget about it, but at least I don’t need to talk about it. I’ll just throw my journal at their head. Then I told Chloe… everything. My best friend from five years ago, and I surprisingly trust her more than Kate or Warren. No, not trust. More like she can actually understand me. She knows how weird the world can be, how strange life really is. Warren and Kate feel… uninitiated, I guess. Like they haven’t gone through their life-hazing yet. I’ll tell them eventually, I’m sure.

After some goading, and the very misplaced snow in the middle of eighty-degree weather, Chloe believed everything I told her. It wasn’t till I told her the bulk that I decided I really needed to say everything everything. Like, Victoria everything. God, I hope I’m not making a mistake. But hey, I don’t need to worry about mistakes. I can rewind time. I’m a fool

We sat at that bench, talking and talking until we had to start a fire in the pit behind us. She smoked while I snacked on a granola bar I carried in my bag. Hipsters are always prepared.

I just watched her over the flames. I don’t know why we weren’t sitting closer. Her puffs billowed out in controlled waves, brushing through the falling flakes. Snow speckled the ground, but the heat kept it from piling up. Just made the ground a little damp. We couldn’t tell from the fire pit. Just sat in the warmth.

I tossed my wrapper in the pit, watching it shrivel and disappear in its burning. Now or never, I thought.

“Hey, Chloe.” I said it quietly but I know she heard.

She exhaled another long river of smoke, a hand wrenched in the opposite arm pit, other hand poised at her lips. Her eyes studied the stars, nearly covered by dark, drifting clouds.

“Hey, Max.” She took another drag.

“So, you believe all that, right?” My hands fiddled in my lap. I took out the camera she gave me. It was too dark to take a proper shot, but it was something my hands could work on. Something to distract.

Another puff. “Yep. Every word. Kinda cool. I’m just… waiting. Let’s see what happens. Then we can act.” We. Yeah. She said ‘we.’ It’s so weird being with my old best friend, like no time has passed since I left Arcadia. She’s still her.

“Well, something else happened.” That got her attention. She tore her eyes from the smoke, looking at me across the pit. Her joint burned, neglected in her fingertips.

“Something else? Timey wimey related?” She took another drag, but her eyes didn’t leave mine.

“No, well, yes, well, more of a product, really.”

“Max, cut to the chase.” She didn’t know how spot on she was. So I told her.

“Exactly.” Her eye brow sunk into her bangs. “I mean, Victoria.” She didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. “You know how I told you about getting past Victoria and her flying monkeys to grab Warren’s flash drive, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I wasn’t being totally honest. I wanted to make sure you believed everything else first. I, um…”

“You didn’t kill her then reverse, did you?”

I waved my hands in front of me, shaking my head. I was pretty damn astonished when she suggested that. Hearing that just a day before might’ve gotten a laugh out of me. Not anymore. Like I said, weird fucking day.

“No, no! Nothing like that!”

She shrugged. “Damn. That woulda been hella funny.” For her. I’d be crying and Victoria wouldn’t know why. God, so much has changed. And that’s why I needed to tell Chloe. No more hiding. Don’t have an excuse to, anymore.

“I’m in love with her.” I shut my eyes. I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. I didn’t believe those words even though they came from my own mouth. I didn’t see Chloe’s reaction, but I heard her flick her joint into the blaze.

“What?” I kept my eyes shut tight. I can only imagine what her face looked like. Wide eyed, no, that’s not her. Angry, probably. Eyes drawn low, looking dangerous like a panther. But it surprised me, too. Despite everything that was happening in my life, this felt like the biggest issue. Teenager feels, I swear.

“She’s a fucking bully, Max. Treats everyone like shit, like they’re beneath her. Rachel was never mean to her, but Vicbitch just couldn’t play nice.” I opened my eyes then. Chloe leaned forward, hands on her knees like she was ready to stand. I wanted to run, hide, rewind and forget I said a word. But I’ve long since decided that some actions need to stay in your life. I curled on myself, hugging my knees to my chest and rocking on the log. My eyes stayed glued to hers.

We used to confide in each other for everything, no secrets. Talked about boys, homework, dumb teachers, bullies, even our parents when we felt they were being unfair. I was trying to find that connection again, five years later, and I felt alienated, like she thought I was dumb for thinking what I was saying. I needed her on my side. I need her on my side, more than ever. I let her keep that gun, for safety. So she needed to return the favor. Let me keep my feelings.

“I- I know,” my voice cracked. I swallowed, bits of granola still stuck in my teeth getting sucked down my throat, making it drier. The fire didn’t help, either. “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t, really. I just know what I felt, what I feel. I saw a different side of her today, a side I can’t forget. I want to see her more, be with her, learn about her. Just… listen to me.

She sat back. Her arms crossed. “Fine. Fine, Max. But don’t expect me to help out if she hurts you, and she will. It’s her nature.”

“I don’t think so.” She scoffed at my words.

“Whatever. Just, say what you need to say, ‘kay? I’m listening. Like old times.” She lit a cigarette, and I talked.

I told her the rest of everything, the paint, the towel snatch, the dry assist, the words, her dorm room (that was rough to talk about), and everything I felt during the whole ordeal. Maybe I left out how I wanted to touch Victoria from her scalp to her feet and everything in between, but I think I about covered the rest.

She didn’t say a word. Just sucked on her cancer stick. She didn’t look away, though. Gotta give her credit there. The fire died down, it got cold, we left and I stopped talking. I said everything I needed to say.

Her truck felt so confining. Stuffy. Until she grinned at me. Her blue locks bounced as she started the truck.

“Alright. I’ll take your word, for now. You can trust me, Max.” Her support meant, means, so much to me. I smiled back. Suddenly, the truck didn’t feel so restrictive.

Now I’m here. Today. October 8th. Tuesday. Another weird. Fucking. Day.

\---

Tick. Tick. Tick. I think the teacher’s saying something about… well, it’s English so it’s something about words. Regina’s picking her lip again in the corner, thinking no one’s watching her. Brian’s holding his phone under his desk abusing our teacher’s apathy towards his students. For a full scholarship high school academy, these kids really have zero integrity. But all that stuff doesn’t mean a thing. This morning’s been such a blur in my book. It won’t garner a mention in my journal. Except this.

I share second period with Victoria, one of two classes we have together. She sits in the front. Near the front. Second row, two seats from the edge. Front and center is where nerds sit, soaking up all the info and ignoring everyone behind them. Back here, geeks and punks play on their phones or take photos with their shitty Polaroids. Well, not shitty anymore (thanks Chloe). Jocks and preps pass notes in the middle like it’s 1985. Then Victoria, queen bee, takes position right where she needs to. Close enough in that she’s surrounded by people, watched on all sides, but far enough ahead that she can stand as leader and speaker, primarily of the VC kids that sit behind her. Any question that sounds particularly difficult, like something only a nerd or teacher’s pet would know, goes to the nerds in the front, arms straight as flagpoles. All the other questions, anything we normal kids might get right, brings Victoria into the limelight. Her right hand shoots up, slightly forward but not quite at a forty-five, palm facing the teacher. Then she answers, proper know-it-all tone, letting everyone know she owns this class. She owns this school. And she’s not a geek, she’s not a try-hard, she’s just Victoria.

I never watch her. I can see her profile from where I sit, her face angled at our lecturer. A chin rests on the back of her hand, her fingers dangling like reeds in a swamp. She looks like she’s bored, apathetic, but she’s really a crocodile, ready to swim out and strike at a moment’s notice.

“And do we know where Twain got his name?”

I don’t know if anyone else knows it, I certainly don’t, because Victoria’s pale, lotion-smoothed hand, bracelets jingling like bells, spears the air. She hits her mark.

“Yes, Ms. Chase.” He likes her. He thinks she’s the only one who knows this stuff because she answers before anyone else.

“His birth name was Samuel Clemens. He once worked as a riverboat pilot on the Mississippi. Mark twain was a term meaning there was twelve feet of depth beneath the boat. Clemens took Mark Twain as his pen name when he began his writing career.” A smile doesn’t grace her face, I don’t want a fake one anyway, but she’s done her job. No one speaks, but everyone knows.

“Right, again, Ms. Chase! Two points of extra credit for your test on Thursday.” She’s the queen.

Blaring ringing fills our ears, soon drowned out by the cacophony of rising teenagers and slung backpacks. Victoria’s nearly out the door as the teacher reminds us to study for the test.

Usually waiting to be the last one out, people call out as I shove past. The door grows closer, but Victoria’s already through the archway. She doesn’t even glance back. I explode out into the hallway, classmates bumping up behind me. She’s gone. Left, right, she’s nowhere. Bantha poodoo.

Thank Jeebus it’s lunch. I’m usually starving by now. My tummy doesn’t ache. Just this pain in my chest, this awful horrible feeling. I think eating would just make me throw up.

Within minutes, the cafeteria lines fill out and everyone else is off to the parking lot, driving to wherever they want to spend cash on cheap, greasy food. Seeing people eat just makes me sick.

Warren’s down by the tables. I quickly turn around before he notices me, returning to the halls.

Everything’s so screwed up right now. I can rewind time, Chloe’s back in my life, her best friend of five years is missing, and a fucking tornado, or hurricane, is headed for Arcadia Bay in less than half a week. But I still have all this stupid teenage stuff. School work, friends, expectations, the status quo. I want to just ignore it all. The only thing keeping me from ditching and searching for Rachel with Chloe is that dumb bully. That dumb, beautiful, attractive bitch that has the school spun around her finger tip. I feel like the innermost thread.

“Hey, buzz butt.” My knees nearly collapse under me as weight falls on my shoulders.

“Ack! Chloe, don’t do that!” She runs around to my front. She’s wearing a new shirt today. A road in pasty wide swerves through stained grey. Whatever words were below the crude drawing have long since faded. Her pants are the same, though. She hooks her thumbs in her pockets, or whatever the hell those useless slits are called on girls’ jeans. I swear, someone needs to fix that shit. I got a bag for a reason.

“Jeez, ya hipster. No need to go moping around the hallways. Let’s kick this pop stand and grab a bite.”

“Not now, Chloe. I just want this day to end so we can get down to the real work. Stuff is gonna go down and we’re just sitting here in school, useless.”

Her face falls. Rachel passes through her eyes and I know I should’ve just shut my mouth, gone with her to Taco Bell or whatever nasty place she wants to go to. Now she’s just eating my words.

“Trust me, I do, too. Your power could be just what I need to find Rachel finally. And that vision? Yeah, that’s some surreal shit. The snow’s gone, but it’s still coming, isn’t it?” I don’t respond, just grab my arm and sink my head. “But there’s only so much to do, y’know? We’ll get out there, don’t worry. Let’s just blaze out and be hella dumbshit kids, play the part.” Her hand clasps my shoulder. Her eyes tell me the rest. I don’t smile, but a smirk should work fine.

“Food. I have enough for Chipotle, so-” I walk ahead, further into the halls, as she talks behind me. “Max! I thought we were good! Let’s ditch this lame ass place while we can!”

“Not hungry.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She follows my footsteps.

“I would never lie to you, Chloe,” I say, glancing at her over my shoulder. Her mouth forms a tight line, her eyes piercing into me. I face forward soon enough to dodge a person coming my way.

“Oi!” He calls out, stumbling behind us.

“I’m walking here!” My voice is a strange song on a radio station I’ve never heard of. The dj spins my shoulder.

“Whoa, Max. You got some teeth since we last talked.” I shrug.

“Not really. Just not in the mood.” I brush her hand off.

I feel her moving, her lips forming syllables, but no sound emits.

It’s clear I have no intention of eating. Chloe grips my shoulder, and smiles at me. There’s a lot more ice in that grin than she probably thinks.

Alone again. Anonymous. Like my shirt says. Guess I am. Too freaked out to throw on something else this morning. The whole situation is hella insane. It makes my skin crawl and my head ring.

“Maxine, right? Hipster girl?” I spin around. A boy’s standing at the corner to a hallway. Short brown hair, jocky shirt, tall… no name comes to mind, but I think he’s a Vortex Clubber. Insults breed beneath my lips, but I reign them in. Be nice, Max.

“Y-yeah, that’s me. I guess. Kinda tired of being called ‘hipster’ all the time.”

Only now I notice what he’s carrying. It’s a long box, I think. That bland, brown paper covers the whole thing but it’s freaking tall. The boy’s holding it at his hip and it almost reaches his head.

“Here,” he says, passing over the box. I mumble something, like where the fuck did this come from, as he practically shoves it onto me. “Someone in the Vortex Club wants you to have this.”

“Wha- who?”

He shrugs. “Can’t say.” With that, he waves once and stalks off down the hall like I’m pigshit. So much for answers. Now I’m carrying some dumb box from a VC freak on top of all this crap I’m dealing with already. Well, better take a peek inside. Can’t be worse than what’s going on in my life.

I place it on the ground after getting close to the walls. The cold floor mashes the skin of my knee as I get down, hands holding the box.

“Whoa,” I say as it shifts slightly, like the leaning tower of Pisa. Now I’m kinda scared. What the hell is in there? I run my fingers down the side. There’s ridges, like it’s a bunch of smaller boxes stacked on top of each other. I still wanna know who did this.

Only one way to find out. Maybe. I slip my thumb under the flap of paper at the top, shut my eyes, and tear. The paper rips through the air, deafening my silence-secure ears. I open my eyes. Oh my God. Oh my God. Holy shit, look, oh my God, there’s so much!

I spill all the boxes on the floor, padding all of them. One, two, four… ten, there’s ten fucking boxes. It’s Polaroid three-hundred instant film. That’s a hundred shots! A smile splits my cheeks in half. Oh, all the shots I can take. I won’t need to spend a penny for a good long while. Then I hear a shutter click.

I glance up and there’s Victoria, standing across the hall. Her eyes catch mine as her camera lowers.

“Victoria!” I call out but she’s already bolting in the opposite direction. “Wait! Come ba-” I step on something that collapses under me, sending me bounding to the floor. “Shit!” I rub the back of my head, looking back. “Ah! Oh no!” One of the boxes is totally crunched! Make that ninety shots. And Victoria’s footsteps are dwindling. No, I can’t lose her again! I- oh, wait.

I thrust my hand into the air and my head throbs. Footsteps retrace their path at a rapid pace, the box of instant film reassembles itself, and the wrapping seals like it was never torn. Victoria stands at her pose, camera up, and my vision burns, dark emulsion shrouding my sight. Time resumes.

I pant, my back on the floor. No time. I jump up and dash for Victoria. Her eyes are wide as saucers but she turns around anyway.

“No you don’t!” I have more speed under me and grasp her elbow just as she rounds the corner.

“Let go, freak!” She yanks her arm back, hitting herself in the chin. She curses under her breath. Blood beads on her lip. My stomach drops.

“Victoria, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” She smacks me away, backpedaling.

“Just stop.” She hisses, padding her mouth with the back of her hand. She shakes her camera. I didn’t hear the shutter. “You can’t do one stupid thing right, can you, Max?” Her eyes. She’s so lovely. Anger, disappointment, and… I made a mistake.

“I’ll make it up to you. But you won’t remember.” I reach forward, touching her cheek. She freezes, all emotion evaporating from her gaze. I smile.

I dash back, sliding into the place where I opened her present to me. I reassume the position I had when first opening it. Her footsteps draw closer. Sorry, Victoria, but you won’t see this.

My hand twitches, then the headache sets in. Ringing fills my skull, pellets pinging around in my head. I manage to look up, see Victoria run down then back up, hold her camera, and wait. I look back down then snap back to reality.

My head’s killing me. The floor looks so enticing. Just for a minute… no! I blink back the pain. I can’t do that to her again.

This time, I do it right. I tear open the package, spread my face out wide, bright as a Christmas light. I repeat what I remember of the first time. A gasp, toss the boxes to the ground, run my finger down the side of one as I read the text, staring as a lover would.

Then the shutter clicks. I look up slowly. I can’t stop my mouth from turning up. My teeth show. I’m so fucking dorky, but I can’t stop. She looks so pleased.

“There’s your perfect shot.” Words almost a whisper, I know she heard me. She just stares, slack-jawed.

“You… you knew.” She almost doesn’t sound surprised.

“Please, Victoria, talk to me.” She’s across the hallway, standing at the end of a locker row on a corner. The width of the hallway separates us. Not another human being is in sight. I sink onto the floor, my butt hitting the cold ground.

Victoria lets her camera settle on her chest, her hands still sticking to the sides. Sounds carry down the hall. Lunch is ending. She needs to hurry. A heavy sigh, that same sigh from yesterday. So unlike her.

Her heels click on the spotty floor. Eyes drift to her feet, a door, my present, anything by me. Until she’s right in front of me. My arms flinch, the muscles under skin flexing painfully. I want to touch, hold, hug, just… ugh! I can’t move. She finally looks at me.

“Okay.” That’s all she needed to say.

She helps me grab all the boxes of instant film. The vibrant colors on the packages make me giddy. This company makes really great instant film. Amazing color saturation, and they develop so quickly. Just, too expensive for me. Now I have a hundred. My hand lands on Victoria’s as she reaches for one. She pulls back, but I grip firmly, holding her.

“Victoria…” Her eyes glue to the floor.

“Let go of me.” She’s not really fighting. There’s a tug, but she could yank back if she really wanted to. I drop her, anyway. She rubs her hand, but not like it’s injured.

“I… thank you. Thanks so much for this. I can’t imagine it was cheap.”

“A hundred and seventy dollars. Pocket change, really.” A hundred-seventy!? Holy crap. And she just bought that on a whim, for me? I can’t even speak. “Don’t act like it’s such a big deal. It’s thanks for yesterday.” I swing my arms forward. My vision blacks as her hand covers my face.

“Ow!”

“Don’t. Bye, Max.” She stands, but I grab her, harder than I meant to. She winces, instantly pulling out of my grip. “What do you want?”

“You.” There I go again. Her eyes go wide, also again… is she blushing? Holy shit that’s so cute. “Victoria, I need to tell you-”

Then the machine begins. Students storm down the halls, rushing to their classes. Lockers swing open, door’s pin with wooden wedges, teachers usher their pupils through the routine. No one notices us in the crowd.

We hurriedly grab the instant film, filling both our bags and carrying the rest. She falls into me, pushed by someone running past. I hit the wall behind me. Her heat reaches my chest. My heart beat blocks out the noise of the hall rush. Then I hear hers. It’s beating as fast as mine. A timid hand slinks forward. I touch her hip, lightly, just the tip, just the cloth. No reaction, no movement, just the world sweeping past, uncaring. My hand plants on her waist, digits scraping her clothed skin. She gasps against me. My lips press against her shoulder, and I shut my eyes. Just her warmth, her breath, the drum of her chest. She smells so nice. Lavender. It’s the same she wore yesterday.

It all goes away. “I’ll drop these at your room later.” Without another word, she leaves. But I saw those peach-red cheeks. She felt all that, too. Critters and insects line my throat and my intestines, filling me from the inside. I giggle, gripping my face. That just happened. That literally just happened. We had, like, a moment. Like a real, tangible moment. Together. In public. I don’t… I can’t…

“Max.” I blink, my hands pawing down my neck. It’s Kate, her hair still in a neat bun. But her eyes rim with red. “What’s up?” I can barely hear her over all the kids running and shouting around us.

“N-nothing, I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.” Her frown makes me cringe.

“Not now, Max. Anyway, we have class in a minute. We should hurry.” Oh, right. I have teenage responsibilities. Me and Chloe shoulda ditched. Oh, God, I’m a delinquent now. Chloe’s such a bad influence. But, ah! Then I wouldn’t have seen Victoria! School’s so wonderful; I wish I could be here every day.

“I didn’t know you liked science so much,” Kate says as we walk together. I touch my face. Shit, I’m smiling like a dweebus. Dead kittens, Arcadia blowing up, well actually that’s not so bad… more dead kittens, people chopping down a forest, Nathan Prescott, oh but he knows Victoria… Dead. Kittens.

Kate’s eyes widen. “You’re scaring me. Your face keeps changing.”

“Eh, heh, it’s nothing, Kate. I’m just… I haven’t ate- eaten! I haven’t- I have not easten. Eaten! Ate. No food.” She looks like a terrified bunny rabbit. I smile, but it comes out like that grin you make when you fart in the pool. Well, now I’m not getting another word out of her for a long time.

Students find their rooms, leaving only stragglers and the lucky few with off periods wandering the halls. Kate veers from side to side, tugging me along with her. My feet move beneath me, one before the next, pulling me across the floor. Light and sound explodes as I follow Kate’s turn. Kids’ banter fill the space, Ms. Grant at the front of the room. No heads lift as Kate drags me to the back. A familiar face greets us as we sit at our table, backs to the wall.

“H-hey, Kate and Max! Took you two long enough!” Warren’s swollen face, adorned with a grin, cuts me deep. I flash a smile, but my heart’s not in it. His own jovial visage falters but doesn’t say anything. My chest sinks. I owe him so big yet I’m scared of what would happen.

Our classmates quiet, papers flip, and our ears fill with information slipping out of our asses. Something about proteins and… substrates… probably important. A sigh breezes over my arms folded under my chin. Kate takes notes in my peripheral and Warren… I can’t see him.

I talked to Dana last night, after Victoria booted me from her room. Found out some neat stuff. Like, bad neat stuff, but still neat. Like, Dana’s preggo? Crazy stuff. Well, I mean, was preggo. Must’ve gotten an abortion. Jeez, that’s kinda rough. I have no idea what that would be like. Hope she had someone there for her.

She mentioned something to me, though. Okay, I totes knew Warren has a folder in his drive called ‘MAX’ and looks at me all the time and would probably jump off a bridge if I asked him to, but I honestly never thought- I mean, he and I… 

My fingers press into my temples, rubbing furiously. Augh, all this… stuff. I can’t. So much can and I just can’t. Kate’s movements cease in the corner of my eye. She’s looking up. My eye follows her gaze to the teacher. Ms. Grant’s standing still, shittastic PowerPoint illuminating her form, staring right back at my friend. Oh no.

“And, if we’ve all done the reading, as I’m sure my good students of class three-B have, then you should all know what diffusion is. Kate, would you care to tell the class what, precisely, is diffusion?” Her dark eyes hold Kate under her sight, hand at her hip, head straight. I can practically feel the bubbling cauldron beside me.

I lean back in my chair, quietly, face forward. My left hand slides off the table.

“Um… I-I,” Kate stammers. Many of our classmates watch her. Whether or not they’re giving a shit right now, well that’s another issue. But they’re definitely looking. My hand swings through the air and grasps Kate’s leg, above the knee. I gently squeeze before rubbing small circles with my thumb. Her hands ball into fists on the table. Keep staring ahead, Max. Rub that leg. Her skin’s hot under my touch.

“Um, w-what kind of diffusion?”

Ms. Grant smiles. “See, class? This is a girl that knows her stuff. Well, Kate, not any specific kind. Simply, what is diffusion?” I stroke her lower thigh and lean my head back, staring up at the ceiling. I smack Warren with my other hand under the table. I hear him shift, so I hope he’s not looking at Kate.

“Diffusion is… it’s, uh…” How can Ms. Grant not see how this is affecting her? I keep my hand on her leg, stroking softly and squeezing occasionally. “It’s…. diffusion is, uh, it’s a transport, movement, passive, um, transport.”

“Which means, Kate?” Her tone deepens. I sit up to see Warren about to speak. I smack him again. He glances back, his bruise shoving guilt back into my gut. I mouth for him to not do so and he sighs, laying his head on the table. My thumb rotates on Kate’s leg.

“It, um, moves with the gradient. Doesn’t cost e-energy.” Her hand fall off the table into her lap. She looks down at the table as she grabs my hand. I return the gesture before pulling away.

“Yes, very good. Now, see, class? It is this type of diligence I expect for the test.” Ms. Grant keeps talking, but now that her question’s answered, she turns to the rest of the class. Kate sighs, her face nearly falling on the table. I look back at her, smiling, my teeth showing. Her weary smile flashes back at me.

The class continues, boring as ever, and I haven’t even taken out my notes yet. Yet. Ah, I’ll just copy off Warren later. He’s busy at his notebook, and he takes good ones, anyway. I still don’t know what to say to him. I don’t want to make him mad. Would he even get mad? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry. He’s like one of those chill dudes that just lets things flow over them. Not apathetic, like he doesn’t care, but like he just knows to relax and let things be. He clearly knows how to act, though. Saved my pasty ass yesterday in the parking lot. Sheesh, I’m still afraid to run into Nathan. I wonder if Victoria would do anything to stop him. Does she care that much?

The bell tolls, students sweeping out the class in a wave of impatience. God forbid you go to school to go to school. Me and my buddies are three of the few stragglers left in their wake. Ms. Grant picks up things in the front, taking down the PowerPoint.

I just sit as Kate and Warren pack their stuff. She looks up at me as she slides her book into her bag. She’s been so pale, recently. Like all color’s left her face, and those bags under her eyes just get bigger by the day, all zombified. I smile. She grins back while pushing a hair behind her ear. I wish my rewind let me read minds, too. I never know what she’s thinking.

“Hey, Max,” Warren says as we walk out the room. Kate stands off to the side, her bag clutched to her chest. Warren doesn’t have Photo with us. He’s got English, a different one than me. He goes down that way and we go across the hall to Mr. Jefferson’s room. With Victoria. I wonder if he’d catch me staring at her if he was in there.

“Yo, dude.” Too casual? I rub my arm.

“You never told me about that thing yesterday.” I think Kate’s looking at me. I shut my eyes. I told Chloe, and that was hard enough. I… I’m not ready to tell Warren, or Kate. I doubt they’d believe me. I don’t know, maybe, but this is clearly bigger than I thought. This isn’t chance, some kinda weird accident that just gave me something to make life easier. I have this for a reason, like getting Victoria- No! Like Saving Arcadia Bay! Dammit!

I don’t want to involve these guys if I don’t have to. They don’t need to know.

“Oh, it, uh, it wasn’t anything.”

“Really? You said something about it being life changing. That doesn’t sound like it wasn’t anything.” He’s not smiling anymore.

“I mean, I got it figured out. So it’s not anything now. I’m on top of it, trust me.” He grimaces.

“Alright, you got it. Then, how about that movie? You never said whether you’d go or not.” He looks so hopeful.

“Warren.” His face drops. He knows this discussion’s over.

“Okay. Just let me know. Good luck in class, Max. You too, Kate.”

I readjust my bag and walk to class before Warren’s face can change. I can’t look at him. I know how he feels about me now. I don’t know why it went over my head for so long. Guess I was just so caught up in my life, in the school and my studies, and bullies and staying out of the light. I can just keep putting him off. Maybe until this whole hurricane thing ends. We’ll talk once Arcadia’s safe. Yeah. That’s a plan.

Then my breathing stops. Of course. Victoria’s already in the room, before I’d even left Grant’s class, I’m sure, and she’s talking to Mr. Jefferson. My chest tightens, I feel sick, like my stomachs full of rocks. Dead goldfish float in my head. She’s so… animated with the teacher. It’s sick. Like, really? The fucking teacher? He’s like forty! Fucking disgusting.

“Oh, Max. We were just talking about you,” Mr. Jefferson calls out. Victoria’s head flashes over to me, her eyes scanning my face. Her eyes widen, jaw dropping. Her hands wave frantically in front of Mr. Jefferson. What did she say to him? Talking about me? I walk over and she stops, turning towards the windows. The sun’s starting to set. The light enshrouds Victoria with gold, highlighting each individual hair sticking off her head. Her back’s really straight. I saw she’s got serious abs. Maybe all that working out helps her back, too.

“Victoria here finally admitted how impressed she was with your work in the class portfolio. I knew it was just a matter of time before you two discovered how much you have in common.” Victoria’s body shivers under Mr. Jefferson’s words. All the stuff I’ve submitted in class kinda suck, honestly. I was just trying to get a grade. One of them hit a cord with me, but I don’t work well with a prompt. Like someone holding a camera out to you, pointing at a rock, and saying ‘Shoot that.’ I have no drive. It’s just… work.

Victoria leaves us, making a beeline straight to her desk. She takes a seat without looking over at me. Most of the class is here by now. Kate walks in and stands beside me. Mr. Jefferson casually waves at her. She grins before looking at the floor.

“I’m sure you’re hard at work on your contest entry, aren’t you, Max?” I nod.

“Of course. I think I finally know what to do it on. I just need to wait for the best opportunity.” He crosses his arms.

“That’s great to hear, Max. But you can’t wait forever. Sometimes, that perfect shot never comes. Sometimes, that perfect shot comes when you just make yourself do it. You got a gift. Don’t let it sit on your wall or in your head.”

Class starts as Mr. Jefferson greets us and jumps into the lesson. I didn’t do the reading last night. Well, that’s what my rewind’s for. If I cared about that, anymore. Kate’s sitting next to me today so I can make sure no one throws another damn note at her head. I glare daggers at Taylor, making her look away. Victoria turns to me.

Her soft eyes reflect the dying sunlight. She’s so close. I could reach out and almost touch her…

“I don’t think she will try attacking us right now, Max,” Kate whispers to me. Victoria turns away. I see her watching me from the corner of her eye. My mouth spreads in a grin.

“Now, since Max has time to smile at people, I’m sure she’s done the reading. So, Max, what was-” Just stop. My skull aches, bending my brain as I bend time. Victoria faces me again and I stop. Major migraine, shit shit shit. Ow! Mother fucker this is the worst! But she’s so pretty- ow! Ok, ok!

Time resumes and my hands bolt to my forehead. It burns but fades as fast as it came. Not a permanent pain, it seems. Don’t look at Victoria, don’t look at Victoria, look at the teacher. Look like you know exactly what he’s saying.

At least I have time in here. I mean, it’s not like his quizzes are hard. I can just… ask Victoria. My heart flutters, sweat beads on my forehead. Visiting her. I wonder if she locks her door. Would she leave it open if I asked? Or would she lock it if she knew? We’re right across from each other. I could totally crash at her place, or hide from Chloe if I just wanted to forget everything happening. Just take a break from all this craziness.

I can’t let Kate know, though. Or Warren. Chloe knows, though. Oh, shit, that means I couldn’t hide from her in Victoria’s room. Oh, well. Best to have some responsibilities, at least. Like, you know, saving the city from destruction. I don’t even know where to begin. And Warren just wants to go on a date. I wonder if Kate would- fart knocker! I promised I’d meet her after school yesterday!

I glance at her. Her notes sit neatly in front of her as she writes. Wait, not writing. She’s doodling. With a red pen. Is that… that’s some dark shit. Kate…

I nudge her with my elbow. Her hollow face looks up from her macabre drawing. I gesture at her notebook, mouthing ‘paper.’ She quickly goes to the back of her book and gently, neatly tears out a page across the dotted line before handing it to me. Her attention turns to Mr. Jefferson, but she doesn’t look into it. She resumes drawing in a matter of seconds.

I pull out a pencil of my own, classic number two because fuck you, world, and tackle the page. Start at the top. ‘Kay, um… ‘how r u feeling abut,’ erase that. ‘about yesterday?? I wus busy im sorry.’ Add a smilie face. Looks good. I slide it to Kate, discreetly when Mr. Jefferson looks a different direction.

She stares at the note like it’s alien technology. It only takes her a second to read it then she applies her own pen to the page. It slides before me, new red writing coloring the bland lines. She follows the lines, unlike my crooked words at the top. Whatever. She can read it.

She wrote, ‘Not now, Max. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble. Talk after class.’ I stare forward. Typical. I mean, I love you, Kate. But, wow. Can’t even pass notes. I honestly don’t know why I expected any different.

The rest of class goes okay, kinda. I watch Victoria intermittently throughout class and she never once speaks up, like her lips are sealed. I want to hear her voice again. It’s harsh, like a winter breeze, but firm and unwavering. Strong. Like her. She’s brave enough to actually put her photos out in the world. Unlike me. Oh, yeah, she got me a whole butt load of new film. I take out Chloe’s- I mean, my camera, peel open one of the film boxes underneath the table, and remove the cartridge. I wish someone would make some noise or something. Hm… I guess I could try it.

“Pst,” I whisper, Mr. Jefferson addressing someone on the far end of the room. I lean off to the left, closer to Victoria. Taylor’s watching me. Whatever, she can stare all she wants.

“Max, we’re in class.” I’ve never heard her whisper before. She’s so quiet. I thought she’d be one of those super loud whisperers who don’t realize that they’re practically talking. Her whisper’s so soft, like she’s cooing to a child. I wonder if she baby sits. Yesterday, that thought would’ve been inconceivable, but it makes sense today. She’s probably really gentle when she wants to be.

“Ask him a question, or, or, answer a question. I’m trying to load my camera.” Mr. Jefferson turns back and I sink back to my seat. Kate gives me a look. I’ll have to explain it later.

A sigh flails through the air from my left. Score, baby!

“Mr. Jefferson, Brady didn’t actually shoot many of his war photos, correct?” I unclip the mouth of the camera and set the cartridge at the opening.

“Excellent point to bring up, Victoria. Mathew Brady was certainly a man who enjoyed being at the front of everything. Famous and well-known, to be sure, but all the credit can’t go to him.” My fingers press down on the back, shoving the cartridge inside. It’s barely audible from above the table. “Alexander Gardner, someone who we’ll be spending much more time with next class, took many of the shots Brady is credited with. Brady, in fact, posed with many generals and politicians in his photos trying to look the part. These photos have his name on them, as if he took them, but he’s clearly in the photo so he couldn’t have.” I pop back up the cover, activating the battery. Mr. Jefferson’s words cover the noise as it ejects the cover slip. “Alexander Gardner eventually left Brady’s employ because of this. But, he became very successful in his own right.”

I flash a wink at Victoria, earning me a cute eye roll. Okay, class is out in… five minutes. Time to cut it short for everyone involved.

The top of my camera comes up and I face it vertically. I stare down, just like yesterday, and Mr. Jefferson’s already caught on.

“Max, don’t you-” the light flashes out, soon followed by the buzz of the film sliding out. I shake it out over the table. Alyssa hides her laughter across the room. I think Kate’s hiding her face in her arms.

“I just got new film! You said I had a gift, so I’m using it.” Three gifts, actually. Now Kate and Warren just need to give me something.

“Not in the middle of class, please. I don’t go to your dorm room and lecture you as you try to study.”

“Really? I’d like that better than reading.” More giggles join the room. Mr. Jefferson sighs.

“Max, I can never tell if you’re being difficult on purpose. You know what? I don’t feel like waiting for the bell. Just go.” I don’t think I’m ever going to apologize for this. I don’t know why.

The students, all too eager for any early departure, leave without a second word. Even Victoria rushes out the door before I can grab her shoulder. I know where you sleep.

“Max, please, don’t do that again. You’re in class to learn and perform, not distract and be a general nuisance. The first was funny, ha ha, but the third time will land you in detention. Understand me?” Mr. Jefferson sits on his desk, arms crossed. A deep frown pulls the corners of his mouth down low. I walk to the exit, Kate behind me.

“Won’t happen again, I promise. Just trying out my new film.”

“Not an excuse, Max. Don’t let me catch you doing it again.”

Outside in the hall, people meander around lockers. The noise made me drown it out with music yesterday. It doesn’t feel so oppressive, anymore. Like a weight’s been lifted. Me and Kate make our way outside. I have nothing to get from my locker and she’s probably gonna take her stuff home to study.

“Max,” Kate says. She’s looking somewhere else, not at me. “You’ve been acting strange. I thought you cared about you performance here.”

I sigh. “I do, Kate, I do. I moved here just so I could attend Blackwell. It’s just, yesterday was really crazy and I’m still dealing with it.”

“You said you handled it.” I was kinda hoping she wasn’t listening when I was talking to Warren.

“I do, I did, I mean, yes, that’s what I said. And it is handled, all taken care of. It’s just ongoing, is all. It’s not an easy fix but I know what I’m doing.” I flash a smile at Kate’s sunken eyes. She doesn’t look convinced.

A brisk autumn breeze splashes into us as we leave the building. Less kids lay about around here than yesterday, probably because they weren’t all kicked out today by an alarm. I steer us to the dorms. I gotta catch Victoria before it’s too late. Chloe’s gonna be here soon so we can start searching for clues and stuff. I don’t even know what the hell we’re supposed to be looking for. And how is my VHS player superpower supposed to help?

“Thank you, though, Max, for saving me from the security guard.”

“Of course, Kate. He’s a prick. But that doesn’t make up for me missing our date last night. I just thought…”

“No, it’s fine. I wanted to be alone. I have… had things to do recently. I’m sorry but I can’t tell you about it.” She pulls her bag closer against herself. I brush her shoulder with a light touch.

“Don’t be. I won’t push you to tell me anything.” I feel like I owe her. I mean, she is one of my best friends. Guess I can at least tell her some stuff. “Wanna here about what I did yesterday?” She just smiles at me. I’ll take that as a yes.

Our journey to the dorm is colored by descriptions of angry Nathan’s, a fiery punk with electric blue hair, a corrupt security guard, filthy rooms in a filthy home, tipped paint buckets, and a lot of self-reflections. I tried to skim over the Victoria bits and cut out all the timey wimey.

“No wonder you’ve changed.” We reach our dorm, straddling the steps as we climb to our floor.

“It was a really long day. But I promised we’d get tea and I didn’t. Want to reschedule? I care about what’s going on in your life and I feel like a total bitch for blowing you off.”

“You didn’t, Max. I’m going through my own stuff. You have things, too. It sounds like you and this Chloe have unfinished business. I wouldn’t intrude.” We stop outside her room. Even after all this time, she rarely lets me in. Must be her sanctuary.

“I guess you’re right.” Her face sinks ever so slightly. I grab her hand, smiling. “We really do need to hang out. A tea date, like we said. Soon, I promise. Will you?” Her eyes are so soft, like they’ll leak from her head like water. She nods.

“Sounds good, Max.”

After a chaste hug, she falls back into her room, leaving me alone in the hall. Now what? I feel like I have so many responsibilities, and I just keep getting more and more. Gotta save Arcadia, help Chloe find Rachel, help them pay off a three grand debt, tell Warren I don’t wanna date him, hang out with Kate, and now I have some weird and obviously gay fascination with someone who bullies all of the above. Not to mention I still have school. I came all the way here, left Seattle and my family, just to attend Blackwell. Now I just can’t wait to leave.

Chloe should be here soon. Today can’t be wasted. Only a couple days till my vision says the hurricane bashes down the door. Ugh. Might as well grab some stuff from my room.

Oh, but of course. Victoria’s room’s right beside Kate’s, taunting me. I look around, check the time, watch my hands, brush off my pants, just… why do I feel this way? Just standing outside her room makes my heart shiver. I wonder if she locks her door.

I whip out my camera, pop out the flash, aim, then tap on the door with my foot.

“Who?” Even muffled, her voice takes my breath. I gasp in some air before speaking.

“Um,” I say in a high-pitched voice. “A girl from downstairs. I wanted to ask about the um… Vortex Club. Yeah, yeah, I really love that shi- stuff!” Should I rewind that? That was miserable. But I hear her getting up.

“Listen, I really don’t have the time right-” As the door opens, my camera flashes, interrupting her. She blinks rapidly as the film ejects out the front. I take it out and shake it, looking at her face.

“Hi, Victoria.” I can’t stop smiling. Stop, Max. You look ridiculous.

“Jesus, Max. Give me that.” She snatches my photo and tosses it into her room.

“Ah! Hey!”

“No. I already put the film in your room since you never lock it.” I actually do, I just forgot yesterday. Ugh, yesterday. “So why are you here? I hate you.” Her arms cross. She’s trying really hard to look angry, isn’t she? Her brow’s tight and her eyes narrow, but I can see how gentle her gaze is. Does her heart beat as fast as mine?

“I don’t think you do. Why else would you get me film and take a picture of me opening it?” That got her. Her cheeks beam bright ruby, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

“Um, that is… honestly, Max. It was only… get in here. Stop taking up space in the hallway with your fatness.” She drifts into her room and I follow, shutting the door behind me. Looks the same as yesterday. Hope she doesn’t give me the boot again. I’m totally cool with her dropping clothes some more, though. Yeesh, I’m a flippin’ perv now.

“Don’t get comfortable. Say what you have to say and get out.” Her light tone belies her words.

Okay, Max. Now’s the time. Say it. She said to say it so you should probably say it. It’s like, three words or something. Gung ho, c’mon. You already said it to Chloe; this can’t possibly be harder. Pull your heart out of your chest and fucking hand it over. Say something. It’s confession time, bitch! Alright, here it goes, here comes the doozy! You ready, Victoria? ‘Cause I don’t think you are!

“I want to look at your photos!” I all but blurt out. My face is red as a beat and I ask to look at her fucking photography!? What the hell, Max? You are a loser. A pathetic weakling who can’t say a simply fucking phrase.

She looks genuinely stunned. Speechless, even. “Um. Okay. Sure you just want to read ‘em and weep, though.” I just grin. Like an idiot.

In seconds, the two of us find ourselves sitting on her matte white sofa, the material squeaking under my bum, craned over her coffee table staring at her portfolio. And I’m… impressed.

I thumb the pages as she allows me to direct our journey through her art. She’s known for her portraits, mostly of her (the seflie thing and all that), but she has got some really incredible landscapes. One’s the lighthouse, but at night. The top’s cut off so it doesn’t overexpose the image. She had to have a tripod for it. I never figured her to have the patience for that stuff.

Here’s another. It’s the Blackwell football field at, like, five in the morning. Must have been summer. The colors in the sky cast across the field are mesmerizing.

The one below that is a vertical shot, a street downtown. No one’s on the street, probably an alley, and the sun’s visible at the top of the screen between two buildings. Wires, phone lines, a streetlamp, and satellite antenna puncture the sky. Bottles, rotted food, cans, cigarettes, and dumped waste bins spoil the street. It’s damp and dreary, but carries more emotion in it than I thought Victoria capable of.

There’s a couple of portraits, but they’re the worst in here. Not that they’re bad. They’re compositionally sound, follow the rule of thirds, draw your eye to all the right places, but they’re lacking…

“Emotion,” I mumble. Victoria shifts to face me.

“What? Emotion what?” She says. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Oops.

“Um, your portraits, I mean. They feel so… hollow.” One on the page we’re viewing is a picture of her, probably a timed shot on a tripod, standing in a hallway. A very rich looking hallway, likely in some condo or something ridiculous and totally Victoria like that, but still just a hallway. Victoria faces the camera, but looks just off center. Her right side presses against the wall beside her, that-side arm stretching straight up with the hand dangling over her. The other arm reaches across the gap to the opposite wall, barely touching it by the finger tips. Both of her legs are stuck stiff, right one pointed directly beneath her down the wall and the left at an angle away from her. She looks kinda like a lower case K. Pretty, but still a K. It’s ‘kay.

I giggle, covering my mouth with a fist. Victoria says nothing, thank Jeebus.

Light bursts behind her, blooming from a grand window at the end of the hall. Must be noon at least for that much sunlight. Maybe at a beach. The effect the light gives to the scene is amazing. But, despite all that, the subject, Victoria, looks indifferent. The pose, her eyes, that stance… she’s not in it. I mean, duh, she’s there physically, but she’s not there there. She’s acting, and not well, either. It’s a good pose and a great shot with no emotion, no pull. It’s just… empty.

“You’re so lonely.” I look at Victoria, the present one sitting beside me. She’s looking down at the frozen her, arms in the image spread like an injured bird, like that bird I saved in Chloe’s house. Her eyes glisten.

“Yep,” she says, voice laden with water. “That’s what the gallery said, too.” I swear she’s about to sniffle. I’ve never seen her like this. Her arms lay like dead weight across her knees, pinched tightly together as she leans over her binder displaying her creative works.

I have a feeling. I don’t know what kinda feeling it is, but it’s a feeling. It’s a feeling that’s suffocating my heart and pounding my ribs. It’s clenching my stomach and making my head spin. I’m gonna run with it.

My hand falls on her shoulder, her designer shirt course to the touch. All show and no substance. And like that, her eyes give up.

Tears, small beads and long rivers, stream down her flawless cheeks. Her mouth stays shuts, rivulets of salty liquid running the length of her lips and dripping to her chin. They dot the back of her hand perched on her knee. Her sodden eyes keep watching that stupid book.

I grab her portfolio, slamming it shut, shove it under the table, and wrap my arms around her.

“You’re beautiful, Victoria,” I say into her shirt. It scrapes my chin. I can’t imagine how badly it chafes her back and shoulders. “And you’re talented and smart and ambitious and braver than a dumb hipster like me.” Why… my own vision quivers as water fills my eyes. Don’t blink, you fuck. Victoria’s chest heaves. She’s sobbing. Her arm reaches past mine, probably grabbing her mouth. She doesn’t make a sound, but I feel her. Every quake hits me like a train. I pull closer to her, the sides of our hips touching.

“Life is strange. It really is.” Oh shit, I blinked. I feel the tears fall down over my cheeks bones, leaving damp spot on her back. “But you’re strong. I… I, Max Caulfield, the selfie-ho of Blackwell, believe in you.” I barely spout the words out of my mouth as tears drown my throat.

She sniffles, sputters into her hand, then her arm grabs me. Her grip is tight, almost stifling, but I just hug harder. Her hand clenches into a fist against my back, pinning me to her, and there’s no place else I’d rather be.

It feels like minutes, but I’m sure it was only a matter of seconds. We separate, a thin tree barely standing split down the middle. Her face is bright red, her eyes swollen and wet. Snot dribbles from her nose, saliva sticking to her lips as her mouth falls open to breathe. She tries to cover it with the back of her hand, but I see everything. She looks across the room, at her printer or her desk, away from my searching eyes. My hands plant on the sofa, facing me to her. I don’t wipe the boogers coming out my left nostril. So gross but I don’t want to move my hands. I sniff, sucking up a little bit.

“Why,” she says, her deep voice swimming in sorrow and laced with moist anguish. “Why do you care?” She finally looks to me. I smile. I smile big and wide, my teeth flashing in the dying sun, my nose dropping deposits on my pearly whites.

“Because I like you, Victoria Chase.” That gets a laugh out of her. Well, more a half-laugh half-sob. More gross snot hits her hand. Then we both laugh, the sound foreign to my stained ears.

“Okay. So you’re not a total loser, Max Caulfield.”

I locate a box of tissues at the other end of the room and grab them quickly. I run them back and sit beside her, plopping down on the sofa. Our legs touch and she flinches, but doesn’t move away. We sit here, eyes red and noses stuffy, blowing them and wiping our faces.

I’m sure it sounds super weird to anyone walking outside. We turn to each other. She looks much better. Eyes still puffy, but much better. I swipe my thumb over her chin, grabbing a bit that she missed, wiping it on a tissue in my hand. She shakes her head.

“If someone told me I’d cry on Max Lamefield today, I’d have kicked them and ruined their social life.” Her laughter’s lonely, too, but there’s a little bit of hopefulness there, too. I squeeze her arm. “What a weird fucking day,” she says, eyes up at the ceiling. I look up with her. The sun casts delightful little shadows on the plain white. I feel her fingers slip between mine.

Neither of us say a word. I think she’s just happy to have someone next to her. But, what do I know? I’m just a hipster.

*credit for idea of panic-attack Kate goes to mitchrawrs.tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for idea of panic-attack Kate goes to mitchrawrs.tumblr


End file.
